


The Dutchman's Beauty

by CaptainCaboose



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCaboose/pseuds/CaptainCaboose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the eye of a stranger, she was an elegant swan. An exquisite peacock. But everything has it’s dark side. Every rose has it’s thorns and so on. But what could you expect? Being raised in the boisterous city of Havana and then groomed by the crew of the Flying Dutchman. She was just an innocent girl who happened to stumble upon Hell. An angel caught in the hands of the Devil. This is her story, learning the ways of life on the Dutchman and meeting the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don’t own Pirates of the Caribbean**

**~Charlotte**

 

“Hurry, Charlotte! Follow me!” George Crawford yelled to his eight year old daughter. His beloved ship—named after his daughter of course— _ Charlotte’s Secret _ , was being destroyed. Debris was flying everywhere as the monster that sailors and pirates alike only dreamed of obliterated the ship. George Crawford was only interested in saving his daughter as the rest of his crew were either dead or scrambling to save their own lives.

 

Charlotte sprinted across the creaking deck of the ship, trying to stay on her father’s heels the best she could. Yet every time she got closer to him, wreckage got in her way. As hard as she tried she grew farther and farther away from her father.

 

“Papa!” she screamed as water rained down on them from above. But storm clouds were nowhere to be found in the vast blue sky. Above them was an enormous tentacle that towered over the ship, it began to fall and men struggled to get out of its path. Screams filled the air.

 

The tentacle fell, slashing the ship in half and separating George Crawford and Charlotte. Each on a different half of the sinking ship, it was impossible to reach each other now. Charlotte covered her head with her arms, attempting to save herself from any falling debris. She ignored any of the crew’s screams and focused on her father.

 

“I’m alright, darling! Just stay where you are! You’ll be fine! Get on one of the longboats and get as far away from here as you can. Find land and find Mama!” George Crawford yelled in a rushed tone over all the screams and the groaning of the ship as the beast tore it apart. Charlotte shook her head at him, her long, dark hair flowing recklessly around her round, freckled face.

 

“No, Papa! I’m not leaving without you! You have to let me help!” she pleaded desperately, her eyebrows drawing together in worry and terror as one of the monster’s tentacles began to snake its way towards George Crawford. He pulled out his sword and began hacking away at the thing even though it just made a bloody mess.

 

“Go, Charlotte! I’ll find you, I promise!” he yelled, trying to mask any fear in his voice as he fought the slimy tentacle. But Charlotte continued to refuse, beginning to search for a way to her father. With the clever eye she had, she spotted part of the ship that had surged upward. If she could climb it, she could manage to jump and land on the opposite deck.

 

Charlotte moved as fast as she could, nimbly maneuvering her way around the wreckage and up the slippery deck. But she was too late, as if she could’ve helped her father anyway. The beast had wrapped its tentacle arm around George Crawford and yanked him away. He flew through the air and his screams were silenced as he was dragged to the dark depths of the ocean.

 

Charlotte screamed, tears flowing rapidly down her face.

 

“Papa!” she called, desperately searching the water for her father. But he was nowhere to be seen. Charlotte yelled herself hoarse anyway, sniveling and blubbering over her sobs, as the Kraken continued to tear the ship apart.

 

She began to feel the wood of the deck snap and groan even louder under her feet. The entire ship trembled as it began its descent to the bottom of the sea. Charlotte attempted to grab a hold onto the long plank she had been standing on but the wood was too slippery. Under the pressure of the beast, the plank snapped and Charlotte fell, expecting to fall into the sea. But her hands instinctively reached out to grab something and she did. Unfortunately, she got caught on the jagged wooden boards of the deck.

 

The wood scraped against her hands and the sharp planks jabbed into her stomach. She screamed in pain as the wood cut her, slicing deep into her skin and making warm liquid slide down her belly. She immediately let go from the pain, plunging into the Caribbean sea. She screamed again, feeling her hat fly off her head but she managed to snatch it back from the air just as she sunk beneath the surface.

 

Charlotte kept her eyes clenched shut for a moment as she sank and when she opened them, she saw what was only described in horror stories. The giant octopus that she had heard tales about. It would suck your face clean off with a flick of its arm, it was the gateway to Davy Jones’ Locker, its breath smelled of ten thousand souls lost at sea, its roar would shake you to your very bones. The Kraken.

 

Now, even though Charlotte Crawford was a smart girl, she hadn’t once considered the idea that Davy Jones and his crew of misfits could be nearby. Fear had overridden her thoughts with the trauma of losing her father. And the only thing that occurred to her was to get away.

 

She let out a gasp of horror at the humongous beast before kicking her little legs as hard as she could to get away from the wreck, ignoring the piercing pain in her stomach. She didn’t get far before she tired out and shock had taken over her mind and body. She doggy-paddled for a bit, blood tainting the water around her, until a piece of deck floated nearby. It was still intact and strong enough to hold her weight.

 

Charlotte hauled her exhausted self onto the driftwood and just laid there. Seagulls flew overhead and all was silent except for their calls.  _ Charlotte’s Secret  _ had long disappeared below and all that remained were the dead and debris. Charlotte had begun to feel woozy and wanted to do nothing but lie there forever. And it wasn’t long before her eyelids began to flutter and her mind went at ease.

 

**~Davy Jones**

 

A calm day for the  _ Flying Dutchman _ . No trouble, not that they encountered any anyway, and it had been easy sailing all day. Under the water. The crew enjoyed the easy work, lollygagging for as long as they could before they resurfaced.

 

Jones had sent his pet after a nicely-sized schooner that was sailing nearby. Pirates or not, he had hoped the ship and the men on it had been eliminated. Half of his crew was off watch but the other half was hardly working at all. Jones didn’t feel like calling the men on watch to scold their laziness for he too wanted to keep the peace for as long as he could.

 

The Kraken would do her job and there wouldn’t be any survivors that the crew would need to worry about. Jones would check of course, he always made sure but with little care. He was a bit absent-minded anyway. Tomorrow was the day. The day he could go ashore. They were already sailing to Isla de Cruces but slowly, the day wasn’t until tomorrow.

 

And then the day after that was for the crew. One day on land for them, doing whatever they pleased. It was a break from the whip and a break from the constant work. Most did as any pirate would do: barge into a tavern in Tortuga, drink all the rum he could stomach, eat as much food as he could, relieve any carnal needs with numerous women, and perhaps steal a few valuable items for their trouble. Liar’s Dice always needed new prize material.

 

There was always the newer members of the crew who thought their families and loved ones still remained loyal to them. But they were terribly mistaken. Their families always assumed the worse; death. And their loved ones were always found in the bed of another.

 

But still, it was the crew’s choice on where they wanted to go and what they wanted to do on that day. And it did not matter to any of them if one experienced less happiness than the other. And their captain most certainly did not care.

 

Jones stood on the quarterdeck with one of his navigators, Greenbeard, at the helm and his first mate at his side. His eyes scanned the rest of the ship slowly, watching his sea-infested crew move freely about and doing the minimal. Luckily for them, the boatswain was off his watch under the water and so was his bullwhip.

 

Something tugged at Jones’ mind and he knew, the Kraken had finished her job. The connection he had with his beast was unlike any other and the level of communication was advanced past the greatest scientists.

 

The captain had opened his mouth to speak to his first mate but became distracted as a small school of minnows passed by him. They circled his claw appendage with interest before lightly picking at the algae and other growths on his claw.

 

“Cap’n” Maccus proposed, his cautious eye not missing Jones’ move to make an order. Jones snapped out of his reverie and shook the minnows away from him like they were vermin.

 

“Up. We’ve got a wreck to scavenge,” he answered and Maccus nodded. He turned to Greenbeard who nodded as well to show he had heard the captain.

 

Pressure increased as the  _ Flying Dutchman _ began to rise until she popped out of the water in a most graceful yet terrifying way. Seawater poured out of the gun deck and filtered off of the main deck as well, leaving the  _ Dutchman _ glistening with the sea despite her rough appearance.

 

As the  _ Dutchman _ readjusted to sailing on top of the water, the wreckage of the schooner became visible. The Kraken nowhere to be seen but the destruction she left behind remained. Bodies littered the beautiful Caribbean and cargo floated with them. Jones smirked, feeling satisfaction for a job well done.

 

He moved towards the railing of the ship, looking unexpectant as he scanned the water lazily for survivors. Dead bodies and debris were the only things to be found and Jones nodded in approval before turning away. But one his crew, Clanker, appeared, seeming to have something to report.

 

“Sir, off the starboard bow, there’s a young lass. She appears to be wounded, might still be alive,” he said, feeling a bit worried but was careful not to show it.

 

Jones paused, turning to face his crewman and noticing another behind him, Palifico. He thought for a moment before voicing his decision.

 

“Haul her aboard,” he ordered and Clanker nodded, both men turning to fetch the girl.

 

It didn’t take long, Clanker returning to the deck of the ship with the lightweight girl in his arms. He softly set her down and the other crewmen on the deck gathered around in interest. The girl couldn’t be older than eight. She was dressed in blood-soaked, boy’s clothes but her long hair that had fallen out of a plait said otherwise. Her face gave away her true sex as well. It was soft, her cheeks plump and freckled, her lips femininely shaped.

 

Her shirt was ripped right across the middle of her abdomen, the source of the blood appearing to be there. Jones assumed that there was a rather large gash there and that it would need to be sewn up before she bled out. If they were even going to save her.

 

The slow but steady rise and fall of her chest answered everyone’s question, she was alive. But the next question was what would Jones do. He couldn’t possibly press gang her, she was a tiny thing and not capable of the hard work the crew endured every day. He didn’t know if she had a place to go but he certainly wouldn’t travel across the ocean just to ensure this little girl’s safety. And the last option, death?

 

It was a viable option. Quick, easy, could be painless. And he didn’t have to deal with worrying about her later. Now, Davy Jones is not a compassionate person. He is merciless and cold. But killing a child just did not sit right with him. He could imagine it didn’t sit with most of the crew either.

 

The child’s wounds became more apparent as Jones walked closer. Her cheeks and hands were scuffed and small smudges of blood could be found on her skin. The wound on her abdomen did not look unfixable but it could be fatal if not treated correctly. But it was safe to say, she would live.

 

“What should be done, Captain?” a crew member spoke up and Jones didn’t answer him for a moment. The crew looked to him, wondering if he would mercilessly kill this child or show kindness.

 

“Coxswain!” Jones called, his voice curt. Koleniko was at Jones’ side in an instant.

 

“Aye, sir?”

 

“Charter a course towards the nearest trade route. But do not stray us from our original route,” he said but Koleniko lingered.

 

“And the girl?” he asked. Jones turned back to look at the child.

 

“We will leave her with whomever we find first,” he answered and Koleniko nodded, turning to take to his duty. The crew had begun to disperse, getting back to their work or getting back to slinking around but Jones spoke up again.

 

“Master Clanker! Ye will be in charge of this young’un,” Jones said, gesturing to the unconscious girl at their feet with his claw.

 

“Aye, Cap’n.”

 

With that, the group dispersed. She was only a child after all and the men did not fancy spending time with children. The idea was foreign to them, something that was reminiscent of an old life. Jones walked back to the quarterdeck, joining his navigator as the _ Dutchman _ continued its duties.

 

**~Clanker**

 

Left with the task of watching after the girl, Clanker wasn’t quite sure what to do. He was almost afraid to pick up the fragile-looking child. To see someone with such innocence and purity was riveting.

 

But he had to put those thoughts out of his mind and focus on the need at hand. He figured he would just pull the girl out of the way of his busy mates. She needed medical attention of course but that would happen as soon as he found a place for her.

 

The lighting in the gun deck was poor but it would suffice if he wanted to keep the child away from the crew and he needed a place to work on her wound. He would check it in the sun to see if it was something he could patch up or if it was something he would need help with.

 

Clanker was no doctor but he knew his way around medical supplies. Quittance was the one to go to for serious injuries.

 

Before setting the girl into a more suitable position on her back, he gently lifted the hem of the girl’s shirt until the entire wound was exposed. Blood had continued to seep slowly from the gash but it seemed as if the wound was not so deep as it was wide. It branched out like a lightning bolt across her tan abdomen and seemed to have already started to heal.

 

Clanker knew she was very lucky and all she needed was a few stitches. The gash did not hit any organs or arteries, it was fixable. It would scar though, and she would likely have it for the rest of her life. A sign of luck.

 

He decided to move her into the hold, he would have more space to clean her up there and if she woke, she wouldn’t be frightened by the monstrous faces of his mates. He couldn’t prevent her from seeing his face without warning but she would have to get over it.

 

Clanker had always had a soft spot for children, he had tons of younger brothers when he was a free man and he was often left to take care of them. He hadn’t seen them in decades now. Seeing this rare form of life, a child, after so long was refreshing. And he, of course, felt the need to take care of her. Something that most of the crew would never even think to feel. Responsibility of others was a foreign custom to them. But not to Clanker and he intended to ensure this little girl’s life until she was to leave. She was too young to die this way and she needed to live her life. It wouldn’t be fair to let her die at such an age.

 

With those thoughts in mind, Clanker carefully picked up the child and carried her below the deck. He found a spot on the floor with the least amount of barnacles and brought a couple lanterns nearby for light. He modestly lifted the girl’s shirt again, preparing to clean the wound with salt water. He also had a needle and thread nearby. What was a few stitches to ensure her wound healing properly? And bandages were nearby of course.

 

Clanker lightly dabbed the wound, wiping away any blood as well as cleaning the gash with the salt water. The girl was still out cold, luckily for her, she wouldn’t have to endure the stinging pain. But she would be sore when she woke. Then he set to sewing her up, the wound only needed a few stitches. Everything else would heal by itself.

 

A bandage was wrapped around the girl’s stomach to create an extra layer of protection from any disease and she was done. Clanker was content with his work and he put the child into a more comfortable position. He rested her in one of the crew’s hammocks and sat on a small crate to wait for her to wake up.

 

While he waited, he examined the girl closer. She was rather tiny but had strong muscles and a good build. Her caramel skin proved that she could not have come from England. She had long, dark hair, nearly pitch black. Perhaps a Spaniard… Clanker could not tell her eye color but he assumed brown. Her cheeks were lightly dusted with freckles that only slightly stood out against her skin tone. She looked healthy yet by the looks of where she had come from, life was not too luxurious.

 

Clanker was pulled from his thoughts when the girl stirred…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**~Charlotte**

 

Her eyes snapped open and she inhaled deeply, feeling as if seawater had plugged up her nose. She felt the rough fabric of a hammock that was all too familiar to her. Perhaps it was all a dream; the Kraken, her papa dying, the ship sinking. Maybe it was all a horrible nightmare and now she was awake in her hammock, just where she was supposed to be. But Charlotte knew something wasn’t right.

 

She sat up and her head spun, but she didn’t care. She wanted her papa. There was a stinging pain in her stomach but she didn’t care about that either.

 

“Papa?” she asked, gazing around the dark room with only a lantern or two nearby. Her voice rang through the silent air. No one replied and Charlotte’s eyebrows knit together in worry. “Hello?” she called, squinting to scan the room.

 

She saw the vague outline of a man sitting just out of the candle light’s reach. Perhaps that was Edward, he was always having trouble sleeping. And so Charlotte was relieved to be back on her father’s ship and she smiled a bit.

 

“Edward? Is that you? You ole’ toss pot. Get back to bed,” she said with a smile but was met with silence. “Edward?”

 

“Lass, you’re not on your ship no more,” the figure’s voice sighed. Charlotte grew confused and then the reality of her nightmare washed over her. It all really did happen and her father really was dead. Charlotte shook her head in disbelief and the tears started to spill down her cheeks.

 

She looked down at her stomach to find blood and remembered. She had fallen off the ship and cut herself on the way down. If the unfamiliar place she was in was not evidence enough, the wound was.

 

Charlotte sniffled, running towards the figure, longing for the warmth and security of an adult’s arms. She crashed into the man, her arms wrapping around half of his waist as her arms were too short to encompass all of him. She cried into his sea-stained shirt, ignoring the rips and holes. The man did not hug her back for a moment, he seemed to be in slight shock. But it didn’t take long for him to return embrace.

 

But Charlotte noticed that his skin was not soft. Rather, it was coarse and sharp in some areas. His clothes were ripped and torn. He emanated no warmth. Something was different about this man. Something was  _ wrong _ with this man.

 

She looked up, out of curiosity, and could see the dim outline of barnacles and...anemones? Could she be seeing things? Her hand reached up to touch the strange sea life on the man’s shoulder and was surprised when the strange creature twitched. It was alive. Charlotte gasped in awe and the man chuckled.

 

“Sir, you wear silly things,” Charlotte told him and the man laughed this time. It was a gruff laugh, the kind that grated against your ears. Charlotte was used to this kind of laughing from the men she had used to be around. Pirates and sailors all had the same laugh, it was something she had noted in her short life.

 

“Ye might think so,” the man replied, a smile in his voice. Charlotte continued to poke at the poor creatures attached to the man’s shoulder. She found it amusing that they scrunched back up inside themselves when touched but flowered back open after a few moments. “What’s your name, lass?” he asked, not bothering to stop Charlotte from poking at him. He was surprised that she had made it this far without being frightened.

 

“Charlotte Esmeralda Crawford. But sometimes people call me Lottie for short. But I like Charlotte,” she explained, trying to see the man’s face more clearly through the darkness.

 

“That’s quite fancy, Miss Charlotte,” the mysterious man said and Charlotte shrugged. Perhaps she’s a halfbreed, Clanker thought. Her name suggested so.

 

“You might think so,” she returned and the man laughed once again at her use of his own words. “What’s your name, sir?” she asked, scrutinizing the man even further. She could tell that he was wearing some sort of hat.

 

“Clanker. Just Clanker,” he answered.

 

And suddenly, without warning, Charlotte grabbed the man’s rough hand and pulled him into the light of the candle. She was bothered that she was unable to see his face after he had seen hers. Charlotte’s eyes widened and for a moment, horror and fear flickered on and off her face.

 

Clanker’s face, like his crewmates’, had changed over time to the sea’s will. His face was coated in barnacles, more so on the left side of his face. In fact, they were so abundant on that side of his face, his entire eye was covered. His lips had also stretched out to the point where they could resemble a clam or an oyster. Clanker’s hair had also undergone change, his once shoulder-length, dark hair was transformed into strands of seaweed.

 

Clanker knew he wasn’t a very pretty face to look at but he did know that he was one of the more human-looking men among the  _ Dutchman. _

 

He didn’t speak as the young girl stared up at him. Charlotte took in his face with a few different expressions crossing her face. She would be lying if she had said she wasn’t at least a little scared. But she was more curious and awed. She stood on her tiptoes to reach Clanker’s face and she lightly tugged on the seaweed hanging from his head. Then she lightly dragged the tips of her fingers over Clanker’s cursed eye.

 

“Ye’re not afraid, lass?” he asked, sounding completely confused and surprised. He had expected a scream or perhaps some sort of remark of hatred. But no, she was touching him as if he were something to be admired.

 

“You’re part of the  _ Flying Dutchman’s _ crew…” Charlotte mused and Clanker was surprised yet again. He hadn’t expected the girl to know such tales. He had also noticed that the girl sounded much more educated than her age implied. Perhaps she could be from a rich background despite her appearance?

 

Before Clanker could ask her anything or even begin to wonder how strange this girl was, Charlotte felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She hissed and clutched her wound. Her gash was bothering her.

 

“Alright, Miss Charlotte. Let’s set you down. You got a mighty, big scratch there,” Clanker said, his more protective side showing. He began to lightly push Charlotte back towards the hammock but Charlotte shoved his hands away.

 

“I’m fine, I don’t want to sit down,” she protested, beginning to walk towards the steps that led to the main deck. Clanker immediately stopped her, standing in front of the daylight and sunshine Charlotte craved. “I want to see it. I want to see the _ Flying Dutchman.” _ Clanker realized that she had pieced the puzzle together to know that she was indeed on the  _ Flying Dutchman. _

 

“Aren’t ya seein’ enough of it from down here?” Clanker said, trying to get Charlotte to sit back down and relax. He wanted to keep her from the crew and the captain for as long as possible. He wasn’t worried about their reactions, he was worried about Charlotte’s. She wasn’t nearly as scared of him as he thought she would be and he was worried that she wouldn’t understand the danger of his crewmates.

 

“No, I want to go up. It’s too dark and cold down here. I want to see the legendary ghost ship.” Charlotte continued to protest but Clanker refused to move out of the way.

 

“You’re injured, lass. You need to sit down,” Clanker said but Charlotte didn’t budge from her argument or her spot. She was a stubborn girl.

 

“Please, please,  _ please, _ Mister Clanker! I think I might just die down here. I feel so lightheaded, I must go above to breathe fresh air,” Charlotte said, her tone showing her lie. She even put her hand on her forehead as if she were going to faint. Clanker put his hands on his hips and shook his head at her.

 

“You’re really into theatrics, aren’t ya, Miss Charlotte,” he said and Charlotte grinned. He sighed, knowing that Charlotte was a child that would not be controlled by the words of another. She must’ve been a handful to her father and mother both. “Alright, but only for a little while ‘cause I want ya to rest. That gash of yours needs to heal nicely.” He pointed at her stomach and Charlotte finally decided to pay attention to it.

 

She realized that she was a bit fearful of what she would see. Were her intestines visible? Could you see her veins popping out? Were there any stitches? Gallons of blood or maybe only a drop? She had no idea.

 

When Charlotte lifted her shirt up, to her disappointment, there was a bandage covering the wound. She glared down at it and began to pull at the carefully tied cloth. Clanker immediately grabbed her hands and pulled them away.

 

“What on God’s green Earth do you think you’re doin?! Don’t mess with the thing, lass. You’ll get it infected and who knows what’ll ail ya next. Keep it on and don’t touch it,” Clanker ordered and Charlotte nodded. She kept an honest look on her face but she knew she would untie it later when he wasn’t looking.

 

“You promise?” Clanker asked and Charlotte hummed in agreement. Her focus was on the mast she could see from where she was standing. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

Charlotte was up the stairs as soon as Clanker let her past him. She grinned as the warm sun shined on her face once again and the wind blew through her hair. She gasped in awe as she looked up at the tall masts with huge sails. The sails appeared to be covered in seaweed. Charlotte was amazed with the size of the  _ Flying Dutchman. _ The ship was much larger than her father’s and the deck seemed to stretch out for miles.

 

But her awe never faltered even when she gazed upon the crew. She could feel multiple pairs of eyes on her but she didn’t seem to care. The men looked like sea animals, just like the ones in her father’s books. She used to love to look at the beautiful pictures and read the journal entries about each one.  

 

A man whose head had morphed into a hammerhead shark’s walked by Charlotte. She speculated the lobster legs on his back, the missing eye, and his sharp teeth. He bared them at her while Charlotte scrunched her eyebrows at him. She decided to bare her teeth back at him, making growling sounds while the man’s expression turned to one of confusion. Clanker, who was behind her, laughed.

 

“Ye don’t scare little girls anymore, Maccus,” Clanker chuckled and Maccus just scowled and continued walking to wherever he had been going.

 

“Master Clanker!” a sharp voice called. Both Charlotte and Clanker turned their attention to the helm. There stood a very tall man with octopus tentacles as a beard who appeared to be the captain of the ship. Charlotte recalled his name to be Davy Jones. There were two other men at the helm as well. One had the skin of a puffer fish and the other was coated from head to toe in seaweed and coral.

 

“Come, lassie,” Clanker said, gesturing for her to follow him to the helm. “This here be the captain, so take kindly to your words.”

 

“Aye, sir,” Charlotte responded, staring at the captain with wide eyes. She watched as the man’s tentacle beard wriggled like it was alive.

 

“Master Clanker, I assume you have taken care of the lass. She be well?” the captain asked, not even bothering to look at Charlotte.

 

“Aye, captain. Her name be Charlotte Crawford, Cap’n. She be a bit o’ trouble,” Clanker answered and Charlotte wrinkled her nose at his words.

 

“I ain’t no trouble, Captain Jones. And my name is Charlotte  _ Esmeralda _ Crawford. That wreckage there used to be my father’s ship. He was a merchant and we were on the way to Kingston when you caught us,” Charlotte explained, surprising the men with how much she was able to comprehend.

 

“I see,” Jones dragged, examining the girl with close eyes. Charlotte looked to the other two men, seeing the sun glint off both of their swords. She turned her eyes to Davy Jones and saw his large sword in a sheath.

 

The puffer fish man had a ripped and tattered cap resting on one shoulder and an earring in one of his ears. He was holding a map in his hands while curiously glancing at Charlotte. The seaweed man just kept his attention focused on the sea ahead.

 

Charlotte squinted at the puffer fish man, seeing that one of his eyes was bigger than the other. They stared at each other for a moment before Charlotte spoke.

 

_ “Hola, señor. Usted habla español, ¿no?” _ Charlotte asked in a perfect Spanish accent. This surprised all four men with her fluency. Yet only Davy Jones and the puffer fish man knew how to respond. How she knew the man spoke Spanish was known only to her.

 

_ “Sí,  _ lass. _ ¿De donde eres?” _ he responded, putting his map down momentarily.

 

_ “Soy de San Juan, pero yo vivo en los mares,” _ Charlotte answered and Davy Jones cut in.

 

“Miss Charlotte,  _ ¿de donde es tu madre?” _ he asked, his own accent making it difficult to sound native.

 

_ “Mi madre es de Puerto Rico. Mi padre es de England,” _ Charlotte said and Jones hummed.  _ “Capitán, _ will I be staying on your ship?” she asked, switching back to English.

 

“For the time being, yes,” Jones replied, turning his gaze back to the ocean.

 

“What did she say, cap’n?” Clanker asked curiously.

 

“Her mother is from Puerto Rico and her father is from England. She’s a half breed. She says she was born in San Juan but I assume she lived with her father on the sea,” Jones answered.

 

“What is your name, sir?” Charlotte asked the puffer fish man.

 

“Koleniko, lass,” he answered before nodding to the helmsman. “And that is Greenbeard.”

 

“Well, Mister Koleniko. My papa named his boat after me,” Charlotte boasted, lifting her chin up. Her strange British-Spanish accent showed even more when she gloated.

 

“And what was the name, lass?” asked Koleniko, looking at the girl curiously.

 

_ “Charlotte’s Secret. _ I don’t quite understand, I don’t have a secret. But I am Charlotte. And I want to be a pirate one day. A famous pirate, like Capitán Teague. Do you know him? My papa knows him,” Charlotte rambled, fumbling with her fingers.

 

“That’s enough for now, Miss Charlotte. Would you go find Master Jimmy Legs?” Davy Jones said, more like an order rather than a request.

 

“Aye, Cap’n,” she said rather loudly, more than pleased to have something to do.

 

Clanker, Koleniko, Greenbeard, and Davy Jones watched Charlotte go. Some with slight amusement while others with annoyance.

 

“There must be something wrong with that child,” Greenbeard said in his slow, raspy voice. Jones hummed in agreement while Koleniko shook his head.

 

Charlotte strolled the deck of the  _ Flying Dutchman. _ Something that no one had ever done before. She had no idea with Mister Jimmy Legs looked like nor did she know why she was looking for him. But orders were orders and she had to find him somehow.

 

Maccus passed by Charlotte and she stopped him, standing right in his path with her arms on her hips. He sneered at her but she kept her lips pursed and eyebrows drawn together. 

 

“Mister Maccus, where be Mister Jimmy Legs? Cap’n sent me for me for him,” she explained. 

 

“Nay, lassie. I’m afraid not. Mister Jimmy Legs is most likely below deck,” he answered, the ends of his lips curving up into a small smile. He was amused at the thought of an innocent, little girl in the hands of the boatswain.

 

“Thank you, Mister Maccus,” Charlotte told him and the man nodded with the grin still on his face. 

 

“Miss Charlotte! I do not have all day!” yelled Davy Jones from the quarter deck. All eyes turned to Charlotte as her back stood up straight in the form of a navy soldier.

 

“My apologies, Cap’n! I was just asking Mister Maccus a question!” she yelled back before running to the stairs that led to the gun deck. 

 

She heard Maccus chuckle darkly behind her.

 

**Davy Jones~**

 

“Cap’n, this girl is obviously unafraid. What do we do?” asked Greenbeard as the four men watched Charlotte talk to Maccus; one of the most fearsome of the  _ Dutchman’s _ crew.

 

“I like the lass. She’s bold, brave, and clearly has been on the seas before,” commented Koleniko, his cheek inflating and deflating rather slowly. Greenbeard nodded thoughtfully while Jones remained silent.

 

“Aye, but she is not fit for the crew. She only be a young lass,” Clanker observed, noting her unusually small frame. 

 

“Aye,” agreed Greenbeard. He wasn’t particularly fond of having Charlotte around as she was a child and children weren’t his favorite things in the world. They were more so pests in his eyes.

 

“We remain with the original plan. Find a ship; British, French, Spanish, I don’t care. Just get rid of her,” Jones said with a snap to his tone. “Miss Charlotte! I do not have all day!”

 

“My apologies, Cap’n! I was just asking Mister Maccus a question!” Charlotte called before scampering below deck. She reminded Jones of a mouse. 

 

“She’ll be just fine,” mused Clanker, watching Charlotte with care.

 

**Charlotte~**

 

Charlotte quickly slipped down the steps to the gun deck. Her feet didn’t make a sound when she reached the floorboards. There were a few crewman slinking around the gun deck as well as sleeping in their hammocks and Charlotte scanned each of them. 

 

“Mister Jimmy Legs?” she called, feeling a bit nervous as the darkened figures turned to look at her. Their eyes almost glowed in the dim light which made them look even more menacing. 

 

No one answered to the name so Charlotte continued even further into the bowels of the enormous ship. She entered the orlop where more of the crew seemed to be hiding. There was a small game of cards going on along with quiet conversation. 

 

“Mister Jimmy Legs?” Charlotte called again, a bit more confidently than last time. This time, she received an answer.

 

“Who be callin’ me?” asked a voice. A hunched figure stepped into the light of a lantern and Charlotte let out a small gasp at the sight of him.

 

He was different than the others. This man was scarier to Charlotte, he was like the monsters that hid under her bed when she was younger. Jimmy Legs resembled a piranha, his face had taken the complete shape of the fish. His lower jaw jutted out to reveal sharpened teeth and coral was emerging from his forehead. He was truly the most alarming face of the Flying Dutchman.

 

Charlotte backed up a few steps, her mouth agape. She let her fear overtake her for a few seconds before realizing how idiotic she looked. She snapped her mouth shut and put on a brave face. She looked the man in the eye without fear.

 

“Hello, Mister Jimmy Legs. Cap’n wants you at the helm this very instant,” she said firmly. The fish-man gave her a strange look.

 

“What the hell do ya think yer doin’ on this ship?” he asked menacingly. He grabbed onto Charlotte’s wrist with a tight grip and began to drag her towards the stairs. 

 

“Unhand me, fish face! I can walk on my own!” I yelled in annoyance but Jimmy Legs didn’t listen to her. 

 

“Shut yer trap, girlie,” he said as he continued to drag her up the stairs with a disgusted look on his face. 

 

The pair made their way to the helm where Davy Jones was waiting, an unamused look on his face at the sight of the child and Jimmy Legs. Charlotte ignored the small pain coming from her wrist as Jimmy Legs kept his tight grip.

 

“Mister Jones! Ol’ Jimmy Legs here won’t let go of me,” she sighed when they reached the captain. Jimmy Legs still didn’t let go and gave her a glare.

 

“Cap’n, what the fuck is this  _ girl _ doing on the ship?” asked Jimmy Legs, spitting the word “girl” while glaring at Charlotte.

 

“She was a survivor of the last shipwreck,” explained Jones in a tone that made Jimmy Legs neither wonder nor question him more. He then let go of Charlotte who had been pulling at her arm. “Make sure the men ain’t slackin’,” he ordered and an evil smile came upon Jimmy Legs’ face.

 

“With pleasure,” he answered before looking down at Charlotte again. “Annoying shit,” he hissed under his breath before turning and leaving. 

 

Charlotte watched him go before turning back to Davy Jones, not oblivious to the boatswain’s insult but more careless. Davy Jones was watching her and Charlotte smiled. It wasn’t really a purposeful smile, it was just a regular, old smile that she would wear sometimes for no good reason. Jones didn’t smile back as she had expected he would; people usually smiled back when she smiled at them. So, she dropped the smile and tried to replicate the ever-present scowl on his face.

 

“Miss Charlotte, do you by any chance know how to cook a decent meal?” Jones asked and Charlotte paused to think before nodding, quite aware of the stereotypical remark. Charlotte’s father was always teaching his daughter ethical lessons on prejudice and the blatant sexism of their world. Charlotte was a bright, young girl.

 

“Aye, I do,” she answered with a raised eyebrow. “That’s not all I’m good for though,  _ Capitán,”  _ she added in a childish tone as she crossed her arms. Jones sniffed, refusing to acknowledge her other talents. 

 

“That’s all ye’re good for now, missy. Now, take yerself down to the galley and make yerself useful,” he ordered, becoming annoyed with the lass. Charlotte huffed in agitation but followed Jones’ orders, she wasn’t one to cause any sort of mutiny aboard a ship. 

 

“Aye, Captain Jones,” she responded in a despondent way. She turned and made her way below deck. 

 

This massive ship was a ship that Charlotte was not used to, her father’s schooner was tiny compared to  _ The Flying Dutchman. _ The layout was also different due to the extensive amount of space aboard the ship. It didn’t take long for Charlotte to lose her way to the galley and realize that she would need help. 

 

She looked around the gun deck at the various misshapen figures of the crew who paid her no mind and found one whose appearance was more human than fish. He even looked softer and older than the other crewmen. 

 

“Excuse me, sir,” Charlotte began, pulling on the man’s ragged coattails. He turned to face her and Charlotte wasn’t at all frightened by what she saw.

 

“Ah, so you’re the young lass they’ve been gossipin’ about,” the man said with a half-smile. There was a starfish stuck to the side of the man’s face and a few bits of coral here and there on his clothing and skin. But other than that, he was almost normal to Charlotte. 

 

“I suppose I am,” she said.

 

“What do you need, lass?” he asked, a kind and helpful look on his face.

 

“Cap’n Jones said I was to prepare supper for the crew but I’m afraid I can’t find the galley…” she trailed off with a shrug, feeling a bit disappointed in herself. It was such a simple task that a sailor like herself should have been able to do. 

 

“Aye, follow me,” the man said, waving for her to follow him. He started off in the dimly lit gun deck and Charlotte followed. “So, how’s the crew been treatin’ ya?” 

 

“Pretty nicely, I think. They don’t act like my father’s crew usually did but they haven’t been any sort of unkind to me,” Charlotte answered, thinking back to her previous interactions with a few crewmen. 

 

“And what of the Captain?” he added.

 

“I think he’s nice, he can be a bit demanding but I respect him,” Charlotte said, surprising the man with her intelligent thoughts. “What’s your name, sir?” she asked, not letting him comment on her answer.

 

“Bill Turner. But everyone calls me Bootstrap,” he answered with a distant voice as if his name was something reminiscent of long ago. 

 

“I’m Charlotte Esmeralda Crawford,” she said, not waiting for him to return the question. They had arrived at the galley by then and Bootstrap pushed open a door that led to a good-sized room. Charlotte gasped in awe.

 

“It’s so big in here! My father’s galley was tiny; there wasn’t much space on my father’s ship,” she told Bootstrap, gazing around the room. There was one large table that took up half the room while the other half was the galley. 

 

“I’ll leave you to your cookin’,” said Bootstrap as he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

 

Charlotte found a door in the back of the galley and opened it to find a few crates of food, barrels of water, and other cooking supplies. From the looks of the “pantry,” the crew hadn’t restocked in a while. Most of the food was rotten or going rotten. Charlotte made note that she would have to tell the captain. 

 

From the looks of it, she would be making stew with half-rotten vegetables and decaying, dried meat. 

 

X

 

“That was delicious, Miss Charlotte,” complimented Clanker, handing Charlotte his empty bowl. She knew he had to be lying at least a little bit as the ingredients she had used were going bad but she took the compliment anyway, knowing she was a half-decent cook. 

 

Charlotte took his bowl and drowned it in a tub of stale, soapy water. Clanker had helped empty a barrel for her into a tub. He reminded her that the dishes never really got washed on the ship but Charlotte refused to put the dishes away dirty. 

 

“Thank you, Mister Clanker,” Charlotte replied, taking a few other bowls from crewmen nice enough to hand their dishes to her rather than leave them on the table.

 

Most of the crew ate in the galley at the barnacle-ridden table while others didn’t eat at all or simply took their bowls with them. Charlotte had made them promise to give their dishes back even though all she got was a few growls and glares. 

 

As the rest of the crew finished their meal, they gave her their compliments and thanks. The captain was to be fed before the crew and Charlotte was to take his meal to him. Jones had also enjoyed supper and told her it was a better job than Finnegan could have ever done. Charlotte didn’t know who Finnegan was but she assumed she had his job until she was taken off the ship.

 

Clanker had informed her of Jones’ plan and she accepted it, wanting to find her way home to her mother. But she was also already sorrowed to leave her newfound friends Bootstrap and Clanker. Koleniko wasn’t too bad as well.

 

When Charlotte had finished cleaning the table and the galley, she put away all the clean dishes that she had scrubbed while Clanker kept her company. Clanker then set up a hammock for Charlotte in the gun deck along with the rest of the crew. She slept right next to him as to make her feel safe in these unfamiliar conditions.

 

Charlotte then fell into a deep sleep, full of dreams of strange, octopus monsters and her papa dying. But Charlotte found that she could never wake from these horrible realities. 


End file.
